Fighting Sentiment
by Gallifreyan927
Summary: Molly has always been interested in Sherlock, whereas he never cared much about more than work. Then things start to change. He finds himself in the lab more, and going out to dinner. Can Molly win over Sherlock, or will they always only be coworkers?
1. Chapter 1

**For the sake of simplicity, and not typing everything everyone already knows, let us assume this occurs after the Empty Hearse, but without Sherlock meeting Tom. I have not seen the final two episodes yet, but I am going to try and remain as true to cannon as I can.**

**XXX**

Sherlock was lying on his sofa in 221 B Baker Street. He hadn't bothered to get dressed, apart from throwing a robe on over his jimjams. John was at work, and hadn't really spoken with Sherlock since he had been back. Mrs. Hudson was out. Mycroft was cross with Sherlock again, so calling him would be a waste of time and air. Sherlock sighed as his arm swung gently off the couch. He felt bored, but there was another emotion. Loneliness? Depression? Sentiment? Perhaps a mixture of all three. "Bored," he mumbled as he grabbed his mobile from the coffee table. His tea had long gone cold. He looked at the time, "11:30. John is at work." That didn't stop him from typing out a text.

_11:32_

_Bored._

_SH_

A few minutes passed before he felt his phone vibrate.

_11:35_

_I am working Sherlock._

_JW_

_11:36_

_Dinner?_

_SH_

_11:38_

_No. I have plans with Mary tonight. To redo what you interrupted. No, you cannot come._

_JW_

Sherlock groaned before bringing his hands together and placing the tips of his fingers under his chin. Loneliness, that's what this is. Just as he retreated to his mind palace, his phone vibrated against his chest. "Sherlock? It's Lestrade. We have a case," Lestrade's voice carried through the phone. After agreeing to meet Scotland Yard around 2, he hung up the phone. He checked the time again, 11:47. "Molly will be going to lunch at 12:15. I shall surprise her," he said as he leapt from the sofa.

He entered his bedroom and pulled out black trousers and a deep purple dress shirt. After donning his coat, turning up the collar, and tying his scarf around his neck, he walked outside and hailed a cab. "Saint Bart's, quick as you can," he said as he shifted into the back seat. At 12:10 Sherlock walked into the cafeteria. He situated himself at a nearby table facing the door and waited. At 12:17, Molly walked in. He watched as she glanced around the room, looking for someone she knew. Her face lit up when she saw Sherlock. Nearly running to him, she stopped next to him. He motioned to the seat across from his own, "Please join me Molly." Eagerly she took a seat, placing her right hand on top of her left on the table, "Hello Sherlock. What are you doing here?" He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I came to spend time with you Molly. Without your help, none of what happened would have been possible. I did mean to phone, but I had to be sure Moriarty's friends wouldn't find out." He stared at her intently.

"It wasn't a big deal really. The hardest part was keeping it from John. Especially at the funeral. You know, Mycroft wouldn't let me speak at it. Thought I wouldn't be able to keep the façade up. We filmed it though, for you. Thought you would like to see who all attended. Your parents weren't there. They couldn't bring themselves to go." Sherlock rested his head on the tips of his fingers. "I would like that Molly Hooper. Shall we meet tonight?" Molly fidgeted slightly, which caused Sherlock to become fixated on her. "Sure. Let me just text Tom," she said as she dug into her left pocket looking for her mobile. "Tom," he enquired, one eyebrow slightly raised. Molly jumped at the question and turned red. "Oh, um well," she stammered as she held out her left hand. "Ah, well, I hope you'll be happy Molly," he said casually. "Tom said it is fine Sherlock. How does somewhere between 7 and 7:30 sound," Molly said, hastening to change the subject. "That will be brilliant," he said standing up. "See you then Molly."

Sherlock arrived at the crime scene. "It is too quiet here. Where is Anderson," he asked glancing about. "Anderson had a moderate breakdown once you jumped. We had to let him go," Lestrade said his breathing uneven from having to jog to keep up with Sherlock, "Where is John?" Sherlock neglected to answer the question as he began going over the body.

The corpse was lying face down on the sidewalk in the ally. "From Cardiff, recently arrived in London, probably this morning. Happily married lawyer. Appears to have been poisoned with rat poison. Probably from a former client. I would go and look at his past cases and question anyone who lost their case," he rambled off while standing up and straightening his jacket. Lestrade nodded and looked over the body of a 40-something year old man in a suit. "Now, Detective Inspector, I must be going," Sherlock said as he tied his scarf and walked away.

As he entered Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson greeted him with tea, "Not bored are you Sherlock?" Her eyes were full of concern. "Not today Mrs. Hudson," he replied as he headed upstairs. The flat was quiet and empty. All of John's belongings had been removed by now. Sherlock smirked as he glanced around; Mrs. Hudson had dusted while he was away.

Sherlock spent the next few hours composing a violin piece. Even if he weren't invited to the wedding, the least he could do was write them a complex yet beautiful piece of music. At 6:30, Sherlock started pacing, "Arriving at 7 would give me time before Tom got there, but 7:30 would make us arrive together. If I arrive at 7:15 though, I will have a few moments to get settled and ask Molly the proper etiquette with Tom." Sherlock looked at his phone. "15 minutes and then I'll leave." He headed for the bathroom to fix himself up before heading out. At 6:45 he hailed a cab. After giving Molly's address, he watched out the window. When the cabbie stopped, Sherlock paid him and glanced at the time: 7:10. "Drat," he mumbled as he found a park bench nearby to wait on. At precisely 7:15 he knocked on Molly's door.

He had never seen her in plain clothes before. He smiled a smile that went all the way to his eyes. "Evening Molly. May I," he inquired. Molly showed him in before quickly shutting the door, "We don't have much time Sherlock. I have a favor to ask you." Sherlock spun around and began studying Molly. "It's Tom. Something doesn't feel right. Could you please, deduce him tonight and let me know if everything is alright?" He stiffened, "You're asking me to pick apart your fiancé? Of course I will." Molly gave him a relieved smile before showing him to the sitting room. They sat in silence until Tom walked in. Sherlock stood as he entered the room, "Evening Tom. I am Sherlock Holmes." He extended his hand for a handshake. Tom gripped it tightly, "Molly told me all about you. I must say I was puzzled by you. The first time she mentioned you, she said you were dead, but here you are in my sitting room." Sherlock glanced to Molly, and she thought she saw worry in his eyes, "Yes, well, had to disappear for a while. Things to do."

The both sat on the couch, with Molly in the middle. Tom wrapped a protective arm around her. "Let's get started shall we," she said walking over to the telly and putting in the DVD. For the next hour, no one spoke. Molly would occasionally rub Sherlock's arm when he would shift uncomfortably. At the end of the film, Tom got up and gathered the dishes. As soon as he rounded the corner, Sherlock whispered into Molly's ear, "I don't care how you do it, but be at Baker Street tonight. Your life may depend on it Molly. Promise me." Molly looked at him shocked before her quivering voice responded, "I promise." When Tom reentered the room Sherlock stood up to leave. "It is getting late, I must get home. Thank you for showing me this; although I will be speaking with Mycroft about his awful speech," Sherlock said nodding at Tom. "I'll walk you out," Molly said standing up. She placed a kiss on Tom's cheek before leading Sherlock out. As they passed the railing in the hall, Sherlock quickly untied his scarf and left it on the banister. "Thank you Molly," he said as he shook her hand. He spun on his heel and left.

Molly shut the door and noticed Sherlock's scarf. Sighing she headed back into the sitting room. "Ready for bed Tom," she questioned as she turned off the telly. "Yes of course," Tom said as he entered the hallway. "Is this Sherlock's," Tom re-entered the room holding the scarf. "Oh my gosh yes. I need to take that to him. He will be utterly a wreck without it." She held out her hand for the scarf, but Tom didn't give it to her, "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Molly shook her head, "No. He will be here looking for it later. He doesn't get sentiment with people, just objects." Tom's fist clenched around the scarf before handing it to her, "Hurry back."

Molly hailed a cab, not wanting to take her car, just in case Tom followed, which she was certain he would. She asked the cabbie to take a less direct route to Baker Street, and to park around the corner. Once they arrived she pulled herself out of the cab and bumped into Lestrade, "Don't be alarmed Molly. I am going to guide you to 221 B. Sherlock told me Tom may show up here. Scotland Yard is stationed and waiting in case something happens." The quietness in his voice told her that she was in danger. As they reached Sherlock's door, Lestrade said a little louder than normal, "Good to see you Molly. I'll see you in the morgue later this week." He then continued to walk down the street. Molly sighed and rang the bell.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door, "Molly dear, whatever are you doing here so late?" She stood aside so Molly could enter into the foyer. "Sherlock asked me to come." Mrs. Hudson stared at her in disbelief. "Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson called up the stairs. His silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs, "Molly, please come up here. John and Mary are on their way. Hope you don't mind." She breathed a sigh of relief, "Not all." Once she entered Sherlock's flat she gingerly sat on his sofa, "Tell me." Sherlock was pacing, "I have reason to believe that Tom is actually Theodore O'Malloy, believed murderer of 3 women, all matching your similar description and personality type. There were scars on his knuckles that were the shape of teeth. O'Malloy escaped the jail before they could convict him and hasn't been seen since. Tom has obviously had some facial work done. Notably a hairline, eye lift, and a nose job." Sherlock glanced to Molly and watched as she slid her engagement ring off. She had learned to trust Sherlock, and she couldn't deny that something was off about Tom anyway. John and Mary suddenly appeared in the doorway. Mary rushed to Molly and hugged her.

"Why did you need us," John asked quietly as he and Sherlock watched out the window for Tom. "I don't understand emotions very well. I need help in comforting Molly," he glanced over his shoulder and felt a pang in his chest as Molly began to cry. John couldn't resist, "You care for her. Don't you?" Sherlock scoffed at his remark, "Please John, you know me better than that." John shook his head, "See, that's where you're wrong. You have been gone 2 years. Even the great Sherlock Holmes can change." Before Sherlock could respond, they saw Tom get out of a cab. "He is here Molly. John, take my phone. If things get ugly, hit send. It is a message to Lestrade."

A few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson showed Tom in. Mary held Molly closer and Sherlock stood at the perfect distance between the two so he could jump in and defend the girls if necessary. John stood behind Mary and Molly, the phone hidden in his pocket. "Molly. I thought you were just dropping-" he stopped when he saw her ring on the coffee table. His face turned a shade of red and he headed towards Molly. Sherlock intercepted him by crashing into his side and knocking Tom to the ground. John hit send and raced to help his friend as Mary pulled Molly into the kitchen. Sherlock knocked Tom down again when he tried to get up and John leapt in to restrain him as Lestrade and his men burst in. Theodore was arrested and drug away to the station. Sherlock and Molly said good night to John and Mary and then sat together on the sofa.

They were quiet for a while before Sherlock said, "Shall I call you a cab?" Just as he said this, Mrs. Hudson smacked his arm. "Ask her to stay Sherlock. She shouldn't be alone." Sherlock nodded, knowing Mrs. Hudson would know how this felt more than anyone. "Molly, will you stay? You can have my room for the time being and I will sleep in John's room." He held out his hand for Molly, and led her to his room. Sherlock didn't see it, but Molly did: as they walked but Mrs. Hudson gave a knowing smile to them before sighing.

"This is the um, closet. Feel free to use a shirt so you don't have to sleep in your clothes. We can go and get you some of your clothes tomorrow, and your car. Lestrade will be telling the hospital you won't be in for a while, at least until you are ready," he said as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His palms were sweating, and he couldn't be sure as to why. "Thank you Sherlock. This is really sweet of you to do for me," Molly said as she sat on his bed. "Yes, well. If you need me, I'll just be upstairs." With that, he left Molly alone in the room. She grabbed a red button down shirt out of the closet and slipped into it, it fell half way down her thighs. She had just finished buttoning it when Sherlock opened the door. He was holding a cup of tea. "Thought you might need this," he said. The words caught in his throat a bit as he looked her over. "Mrs. Hudson told you to bring it to me, didn't she," Molly asked taking the cup from Sherlock. "Yes, she seemed to think it would be a good idea," he shifted nervously. "Thank you Sherlock, good night." "Good night Molly." He turned and headed up the stairs, for some reason, his pants felt a little tighter. Molly grabbed the collar of his shirt she was wearing and breathed in his scent. Sighing she flopped onto the bed, and was surrounded in the scent she had only dreamt about. Curling up with the pillow, it was the best sleep she had received since Sherlock had jumped from the building.

XXX

**I can't guarantee all the chapters will be as long as this one, but when you are cleaning at work and your brain writes a fanfiction, you just have to include all the details. **


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock woke early the next day. John and Mary had each taken the day off, because they were worried about Molly. As John opened the door Sherlock shushed him and gestured to his bedroom door. "How long are you going to let her sleep Sherlock," John said as he sat at the kitchen table. He watched Sherlock messing around with an eyeball. "As long as she needs I suppose. Mrs. Hudson wants her to stay at Baker Street. At least for now," Sherlock said quietly. "John, what is it?" John shifted nervously and glanced into the living room where Mary was intrigued by many of Sherlock's things. "Best man Sherlock. I want you to be my best man at the wedding," John hurriedly said. Sherlock stared at him in disbelief. Silence encircled the pair for several minutes, "So, I'm your best friend?" John smiled at his friend, "Yes, of course Sherlock." "I didn't even think I would be invited," Sherlock mumbled before looking away from John. "What? What was that?" Before Sherlock could answer, Molly had entered the kitchen with Mary, she was still wearing only his shirt. "Ah, good morning Molly. How did you sleep," Sherlock asked as he made note that the dark circles around her eyes were gone, she smiled a little brighter, and her stance a little more confident. Molly gave him a smile as Mary whispered something in her ear. Molly's jaw dropped as she glanced from Sherlock to Mary.

"Come along Molly," Sherlock shouted at the door of his bedroom. She had been getting ready for nearly 15 minutes now. "Patience Sherlock. She is a woman," Mary said. Sherlock scoffed at her and started pacing. "Do you think she would be good for him," John whispered to Mary as Sherlock started playing his violin. "I think she will be perfect for him. We just need to get him to be less machine and more human sweetheart." John leaned over and kissed Mary on the cheek as Molly walked out. Her face fell slightly, as she glanced at Sherlock to avoid looking at the happy couple, "Are you ready Sherlock?" He spun around and headed out the door without saying a word. As Molly started to follow, John stopped her, "Give me your keys. Sherlock and I can get your things and I'll drive your car back here. Mary would like some time to talk with you." Hesitantly, Molly handed her keys to him and explained each key and what she absolutely needed.

As the boys left, Molly sat in Sherlock's chair across from Mary. "You wanted to talk to me?" Mary smiled at her and rubbed her knee, "Don't give up on him. He does care about you. I know he can be awful, John has told me some of the things he said to you, but John also told me that you were the first person he ever heard Sherlock apologize to. Chin up Molly. John and I are going to bring him round yet." Molly gave her a smile, "I don't think Sherlock is capable of anything more than sort of friends honestly." Mrs. Hudson entered the room followed by Mycroft. "Women in my brother's flat. Never thought I would see the day." He held out his hand to Mary. "You must be Mary. Sherlock told me all about you. Good to see you Molly. Now, where is my brother?" "He's at my flat. Getting some of my things," Molly's voice quivered slightly. She had always been scared of Mycroft. "Ah, well, do tell him I stopped by." Molly could feel Mycroft deducing her, so she decided to have a bit of fun with him. "Of course Mycroft. Sherlock has been absolutely wonderful since he came back. He let me stay here with him last night." Mary, soon caught on to what Molly was doing, "Yes, and the four of us are going out to dinner later. Care to join us Mr. Holmes?" Mycroft stared at Molly. He tried to find a tell that she was being less than honest with him, but it would appear she were telling the truth. He stood closer to her, causing her to look up at him. To his surprise, he smelled his brother's cologne on her skin. "I think I will have to pass on your invitation Mary. Good day." Once they heard the front door close and Mycroft's car start, they erupted into a fit of giggles. "How long until he calls Sherlock do you think," Mary asked as she stood up and headed into the kitchen to make lunch for her friends.

John opened the door to Molly's flat, "Nice place they got. Don't you think Sherlock?" John glanced over at him. "Yes. Too nice. Molly doesn't like flashy things except when she is trying to be noticed." John stared at him puzzled, "How could you possibly know that?" Before he could answer, Sherlock's phone started ringing, "Yes, what is it?" _"Is it true that Molly Hooper stayed at Baker Street last night," _Mycroft's voice came through the speaker. "She did. Why does that matter?" _"No reason, I just saw that her fiancé had been arrested last night, apparently at your flat, and then I arrive there looking for you, and come to find out that you have a dinner date with Mary, Molly, and John tonight. I thought you weren't getting involved brother mine." _Sherlock stared at John before turning his attention back to Mycroft, "I don't know anything about dinner Mycroft. Tom, or rather, Theodore, was arrested last night at my flat because I lured him there by using my scarf and Molly. Lestrade arrested him and Molly wasn't murdered. Do you really think I wanted my next case to be one of my—" Sherlock paused before saying, "colleagues." Mycroft was silent for a moment, and only began speaking again when prompted by Sherlock, _"Sherlock, those people you associate with are more than colleagues. Sentiment does not give you an advantage." _Sherlock could feel himself shaking with anger, "I am busy. Molly needs things from her flat. She would rather wear her clothes than mine. Can't say that I understand why, her choice in jumpers is atrocious sometimes. Good bye Mycroft." He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply from his brother.

"So, Sherlock. Have you ever had a girlfriend," John casually asked as he packed away Molly's clothes into boxes. He and Sherlock had decided to empty the flat of her things entirely. Occasionally John would send a picture of something to Molly to ask who was the rightful owner of it. "Hmm? No. I always found the idea rather silly. I had offers, yes. No one ever matched intelligence and held my attention long enough," came the reply as he pulled shirts out of the closet. "Irene did," John pointed out as he flipped through a scrapbook Molly had made that covered everything about her working with Sherlock, and the end had a newspaper clipping about his suicide. He quickly hid it in the nearest box. Sherlock would have been cruel to her had he seen it. Sherlock stiffened at the mention of The Woman, "She was also a traitor." John's phone chirped in his pocket.

_Work on getting Sherlock to actually see Molly._

_3_

_M_

John placed his phone in his pocket after typing out:

_Molly Hooper, maid of honor? They would have to work together to help us a lot._

"Sherlock, what about Molly," John asked as they carried the first of the boxes to her car. "What about her," Sherlock questioned. "Well, she likes you, and you can't tell me that you don't like her. She was one of the only people you confided in when you disappeared. You spent an entire day with her once you got back. Clearly she is important to you." Sherlock flushed and stumbled going up the steps, "Molly is a good friend." He worked in silence the rest of the time at Molly's flat.

Once they arrived back at Baker Street, Sherlock found it hard to concentrate. His mind kept wandering to what John had said about him and Molly. He jumped slightly when Molly placed her hand on his shoulder, "Thank you Sherlock. This means a lot to me." He slowly stood up and turned to face her. Slowly, he began deducing her. His mind was foggy, and kept taking him into uncharted feelings that he didn't understand. Before he realized what he was doing, he had laid a hand on her cheek and was drawing circles on it with his thumb. When he finally snapped back, he jerked his hand away. "I am sorry for that Molly," he said before casually walking into his room. Molly looked at Mary who mouthed, "Follow him."

Molly knocked on his door, "Sherlock? Can I come in?" When she didn't get a reply, she almost turned and left, but instead her curiosity won out and she quietly opened his door. He was curled up in bed with his eyes shut. Molly assumed he had retreated to his mind palace. "Sherlock? Can we talk?" She sat on the bed next to him, causing him to jump. "Molly! I was thinking. What are you doing in here?" She took a deep breath and for the first time, she wasn't scared to talk to Sherlock Holmes, "Sherlock," she started, "Mary asked me to be the maid of honor. So I guess we will be doing a lot of work together." She mentally scolded herself for not asking him out right there. He glanced her way, "Congratulations Molly. Are you ready to go back to work? I need the lab and those women in there stare at me too much." She let out a giggle, knowing that half of them wanted to shag him, and the other half couldn't wait to see his body on that slab. "Sure, we can start tomorrow." She closed the door as she left. Sherlock sighed before ruffling his hair and following her out.

The next morning, Molly offered to drive Sherlock to the hospital with her, but he declined, not wanting to cause more rumors to start. He arrived at the lab about thirty minutes behind her, a box filled with different things he planned on examining. Molly had already made his coffee and had it waiting for him once she received a text saying he was on his way. Her hair was parted to the side and she wore a light shade of lipstick, trying to remember all the compliments Sherlock had paid her. He nodded and thank you to her as he sipped on the coffee. A few hours passed with Molly coming into the lab to check on him every so often. Around 1, he was packing up when she came in. Her heart fell slightly; she wasn't ready for him to leave, "I'll see you at home. We can get you situated in John's old room." "Yeah, that would be great. Thank you again Sherlock." She turned to leave when Sherlock grabbed her hand, "Molly, um," he looked into her eyes, very flustered, "It'll just be us tonight, I have a DVD player in my room. Mrs. Hudson said the last tenants left it there, God only knows why I kept it. Would you, like to watch a movie with me? I know you have plenty." He was mentally kicking himself for even taking John's advice. How was he supposed to know what "cuddling" was? Molly could feel the pink rising in her cheeks, "That would be wonderful. I'll pick us up some supper." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, but his lips hovered a moment too long. When he stood back up his cheeks were a shade darker than what they normally were. The rest of the work day passed without much being done, because Molly was thinking of her Sherlock.

Just before Molly's work day ended, Sherlock sent her a text, _You always counted. SH_

"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock shouted from the top of the stairs. "What is it dear," she asked suspiciously. She had taken on an even bigger mother role for Sherlock since his return. "I need, something," he said confusion spilling from every part of him. "Is it about Molly," she gave him a knowing smile. "Yes! We are having dinner tonight here, and watching a film. I want it to be special, but I don't know how." Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands together, "I'll go pick you up some wine and some flowers. Be back in a jiffy." He watched her as she hurried out the door. When he re-entered the flat he began slapping himself in the face. "Pull. Yourself. Together," he told himself with each smack. He only stopped his mental abuse when he heard Mrs. Hudson arrive back at the flat.

"Here you are dear. I picked up some candles too," she told him as she started cleaning up the clutter. "Candles? Why candles? Are we planning on having a power outage again," he asked picking up the box of candles suspiciously, noting that they were rather expensive if that was to be their use. Mrs. Hudson laughed, "No silly, put those in your room and light them before you watch the film, she will love it." Sherlock rolled his eyes before carrying the candles and wine to the bedroom. Molly arrived shortly after Mrs. Hudson had returned downstairs. "Evening Molly. I trust work was well," Sherlock stated as he took her coat, practicing the motions and words Mary had told him to use around Molly. "Yeah, it was great. I brought noodles. I know that's your favorite." She held up the take-out boxes. He gave her a genuine and rare affectionate smile before helping her serve out the food. "Pick a movie, and I'll go get the telly ready." He grabbed both plates and carried them into the bedroom. Once he closed the door with his foot, he set the plates on the trays he had borrowed from Mrs. Hudson, poured the wine, and lit the candles. He had just finished when Molly walked in.

Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she looked around his room, "What is all this?" He embraced her tightly, "Just my way of saying thank you Molly Hooper. Now, what are we watching?" He wrinkled his nose when Molly held up "Leap Year." "Sorry, I love romantic comedies," she said as she blushed. Without responding, Sherlock took it from her and put it in the DVD player. For the first thirty minutes of the film, they sat in silence. Sherlock had already figured out the ending, but for Molly's sake, he remained quiet, just as John had said to. Without realizing what he was doing, Sherlock wrapped an arm around Molly's shoulders. He was just about to apologize and pull away, but Molly curled up next to him and laid her head on his chest. He looked at her puzzled and thought about text John to ask what he should do, but his phone was in the pocket nearest Molly. Sighing he adjusted himself to be more comfortable.

At the end of the film, he switched the telly off with the controller, "Molly, that was…interesting." He waited for a reply. When none came, he shifted himself so he could see her face: she was asleep. He checked her breathing and pulse and decided that she had been sleeping for about 20 minutes. Sherlock began trying to figure out the best way to get out from underneath her, but found none. She had not only been laying on his chest, but wrapped her right arm around his middle and intertwined her legs with his. Grumbling quietly Sherlock slowly moved into a position where he was able to be comfortable enough to fall asleep and began to drift off.

The next morning was a Saturday, and John popped in unexpectedly. When he didn't find Sherlock asleep on the couch or Molly up making breakfast, he decided to check the bedrooms. He became worried when he didn't find Molly in his former room, but was somewhat relieved to find Sherlock in his proper bed for once. He stepped in to wake Sherlock, but when he got closer, he realized that Molly was lying next to him, and they had obviously been there awhile, since they were both in yesterday's clothes. John snapped a photo of the "couple" with his mobile and sent it to Mary. As he turned to leave, he heard Sherlock moving about. Quietly, he rushed to Sherlock's side of the bed and motioned for him to be quiet. Sherlock stared at Molly wide-eyed before shooing John out of the room. "Molly, time to get up," he mumbled into her ear. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat straight up. "Oh Sherlock I'm so sorry," she said as she raced out of the room nearly knocking John over. Sherlock sat up and stretched. He followed Molly out and grabbed her shoulders, "It is fine Molly, I promise." He wouldn't admit it, but that was the best sleep he had had in a long while.

**XXX**

**So some Sherlock/Molly fluff, just because I was so eager to write it. If they have an actual relationship, it won't begin for a few chapters yet. Thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU for the review and all the followers! I had 12 in the first 24 hours! I know, this is a few days late, but I had to rewatch a few episodes to get a feel for Molly's character, and I couldn't seem to write Mycroft the right way, but I am mostly satisfied. Cookies for everyone!**


	3. Chapter 3

Molly rushed around the flat getting ready to head into work. She wasn't scheduled to work this Saturday, but she needed some space away from Sherlock, and was fairly certain he needed some time away from her. Sherlock sat in his chair and watched her. He knew she wasn't upset about the previous night, but that she was worried about her friendship. Molly glanced over her shoulder as she opened the upstairs door, "Thank you Sherlock, for a lovely night." Before he could answer, Molly was gone. Sherlock huffed and moved from his chair to the couch. "Are you seriously throwing a fit over Molly," John asked him, a slight laugh stifled. "I was kind to her," Sherlock grumbled into the sofa. "Sherlock, wedding tomorrow. Are you ready?" Sherlock sat up on the couch, "I'm not getting married you are. What could I possibly have to be ready for?" John scoffed and headed out to work.

Sherlock laid around the flat most of the day. Molly never sent him a text, John never responded. Mrs. Hudson wandered in every so often and chattered away about the latest gossip in one of her programs. Sherlock had just drifted off when Molly entered the flat. "Oh," she gasped as she looked at his sleeping form stretched out across the couch and table. He yawned and stretched, when he heard her gasp, "Hullo Molly." She gave him a smile before busying herself in the kitchen. "Judging by your demeanor and lack of talking, I suppose you are angry with me. I can only assume it is because of last night. Did you not enjoy yourself?" Molly slammed her bag onto the counter, "Of course I did Sherlock. You know, for a genius you can be so thick sometimes. Last night, was brilliant, thank you. I can't keep doing this though. I can't keep chasing after you with hopes of something that will never happen. Jim, Tom, and now you? How many times do I have to be hurt and used Sherlock." Tears started streaming down her face. Sherlock, not knowing what exactly to do, patted her hand lightly, which caused Molly to collapse into his arms. Her shampoo wafted into his nostrils and he smiled at her choice in fragrance: coconut. He hugged her closer to him before pushing her away gently, "Molly Hooper, I'm not going to hurt you." With this, he strode off to his bedroom and Molly quickly wiped her eyes.

Upstairs, she flopped onto John's old bed. It was colder up here, and she found herself wishing she were back down in Sherlock's king-sized bed. As she began to read one of her many books from work, there was a gentle knocking at her door. "Um, come in," she said quietly as she quickly laid her hair flat. Sherlock entered carrying a blanket from his bed, "John always said it was a bit chilly up here. I thought you might want this." He awkwardly held out the blanket. "Thank you Sherlock. I would ask you to stay, but big day tomorrow, yeah," she said taking the blanket, her hand brushing against Sherlock's briefly. He glanced around the room and saw her purple maid of honor dress hanging against the wardrobe. "You're nervous," he said looking back at her, trying to not picture her wearing the dress. "Yeah I guess so. Never had to do anything so important." Sherlock chuckled, "And you dissect bodies for Lestrade on a whim." Molly giggled and bit her lip. "Good night Molly Hooper," he leaned in and kissed her cheek before turning on his heel and heading back to his room. Molly flopped down onto the bed with a grin plastered across her face. Tomorrow she would, for one night, be Sherlock's.

Sherlock woke early the next day. When Molly came down the stairs in her dress, Sherlock faltered for a moment before returning to his dancing. "What do you think," Molly asked, noticing the way he looked at her. "You look beautiful Molly. Now, go and help Mary, I will see you later." Molly grabbed her jacket and was heading out as John was heading in.

"Sherlock, ready," he asked as he watched Molly go. "Yes, I suppose so," Sherlock choked out as he grabbed his violin from his chair. The drive to the church was quiet until John couldn't contain himself any longer, "So, what is going on with you and Molly?" Sherlock sat straighter (if that was possible), "Why do you ask? You know I don't get involved." "That was before you felt loneliness. I see how you look at her since you have been back. Don't pretend Sherlock," John accused him. For the first time, John saw defeat in Sherlock's eyes, "How, can I be with Molly, without compromising myself?" John's mouth opened and closed repeatedly until he exhaled and fell silent.

The wedding and first part of the reception went by quickly. Luckily for Sherlock, Molly was able to keep him straight alongside John with his speech. He even solved a case before John's ex-commander was murdered. Out of everything that happened, he was most nervous about dancing with Molly. They hadn't really talked much since that night when Molly stayed with him, and he dreaded that it would affect their dance. His fears were removed when she wrapped her arm through his and they headed out onto the dance floor. To the crowd, they were almost as beautiful as John and Mary had been. Sherlock pulled Molly in closer as the music swelled to a climax. She laid her head on his shoulder, her lips inches away from his earlobe. "I love you Sherlock Holmes," she whispered, barely auditable. Her eyes widened when she realized that it had escaped her lips. Sherlock didn't react, but he heard her. When the song ended and they had disappeared into the crowd once again, Molly excused herself away from Sherlock.

Molly fought her way to the loo and locked the main door, not wanting to be disturbed. Tears started streaming down her face as she berated herself over and over, "Stupid! How could you be so stupid?" She sank to the floor and buried her face in her arms. Just as she was about to give over completely to the sobbing, a gentle knocking came from the other side of the door, "Molly, open up." Her head shot up as Sherlock's gentle voice reached her ears. Molly gently wiped her eyes on the back of her hand before unlocking the door and cracking it slightly, "What do you want Sherlock?" He held out his hand and gestured for her to take it. Hesitantly, Molly opened the door and grabbed his strong hand, "I—" Sherlock held up his other hand to quiet her, "Do not apologize Moly Hooper. Never apologize for being human." With that, he turned and led them, hand in hand, back to the reception.

Mary gave them a smile as she noticed them holding hands. "John! Do you think," Mary whispered as she nodded to Sherlock and Molly dancing together off to the side. "No. Not yet, but an east wind is coming." The rest of the night was filled with music and dancing and two people who began to realize just how much they needed the other.

XXX

Okay, so the next chapter will take place about 15 months after this one, otherwise, there will just be a bunch of filler chapters. Which means, Sherlock babysitting, maybe getting with Molly, and maybe some furniture moving.


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